


speaking just for me

by honeyvoiced



Series: ❝ been here before ❞ [6]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Mid-season AU, Office Sex, Rough Sex, Teasing, attempted (and failed) topping from the bottom, author took artistic liberties, porn with little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: She saw him before Fallon did.





	speaking just for me

**Author's Note:**

> This is set directly after 2.16 & will likely be obsolete by 2.17!!  
> As always, thank you Amanda, for beta-reading.

“You know what? I think I could get used to this.”

 

Kirby stretched her legs out in front of her before crossing one over the other and leaning lazily on her elbows in her seat. 

 

Across the desk from her, the brunette didn’t even open her eyes. With her head dropped back against the leather seat, the sun from the nearest windows lit up her hair and warmed her face.

 

“First order of business, no speaking in cliches. We can’t work in publishing and just repeat the same quotes over and over.” 

 

Kirby snorted, shaking her head a little and straightening in her seat. 

 

“That’s fair,” she conceded, her eyes trailing up the other woman’s legs from where they were propped up on the desk to her face. “And the second order?”

 

For a second, given Fallon’s blissed-out expression - a combination of a comfortable seat and a scheme successfully executed at men’s expense - Kirby expected the answer to be simply  _ ‘nothing’. _

 

Though after a moment to consider, the smile fell slightly from Fallon’s face and she pulled her legs back, swinging them around to rest on the floor before getting out of her seat. Back to business, in true Fallon fashion.

 

“We should figure out who else we need to fire. I’d like to start with a clean house, so to speak.”

 

Kirby hopped up quickly in response, feeling a wave of excitement crash over her. A job. A  _ real  _ job, something people would respect. It had been a while. 

 

“Okay, where should I start?” Kirby smiled brightly, hoping her tone came off as more  _ enthusiastic  _ and less  _ kiss-ass _ . 

 

Fallon turned her gaze to the computer in front of her instead, humming. 

 

“We’ll need to get the login credentials so I can start going over the roster. Could you -”

 

“Hire you a real assistant? I’d be happy to.” Kirby cut her off smoothly, but her tone was bright, and playful.

 

The brunette levelled her gaze with her, smirking a little and waving a hand. 

 

“Fine. In the meantime, though…?” She gestured toward the office door, leading out into the hall, and Kirby just shook her head in amusement.

 

“Yes. I will go ask the secretary to make the call.”

 

* * *

 

 

Settled in one of the plush, worn-leather seats across the office, Kirby felt the warmth of the office settle in around her. Usually comfortable, it seemed torturous to be so cozy and relaxed when a nap was not an option. 

“Is it hot in here?” She finally asked after a particularly long silence. Fallon rolled her ankles and recrossed them, glancing up from the clipboard in her hands. 

“Maybe.” It was a nothing answer, but the brunette seemed fairly distracted from her work, anyway. Bringing the cap-end of her highlighter to her lips, Fallon popped it into her mouth and dropped her eyes back to the sheet before her. 

Kirby had really only ever experienced Fallon working when it was at home, and even then she usually liked to be left alone. Kirby had always liked that, though - even if it meant admiring Fallon from afar - usually in pajamas or some kind of loosened-version of whatever the outfit of the day had been, almost always in her glasses, and nine times out of ten, with the dog tucked at her feet for company. 

She rarely ever looked  _ not  _ put together, but home-Fallon did still differ from office-Fallon, Kirby was beginning to realize, and she found herself letting her own highlighter begin to dry out, focused on the woman in front of her instead of on her own work. 

Between the sleepy warmth, and the sudden hazy interest in every tiny, unconscious gesture from the woman before her, a sinking feeling began to set in with Kirby - if she didn’t get her own office, and soon, it would be a nightmare to try to focus on her actual job.

“Do you plan to do any highlighting with that?” 

Fallon’s voice snapped her out of it, and when Kirby lifted her gaze to her face again, she was looking right at her. 

“Pardon?” Kirby heard her own voice crack - she hadn’t realized how dry her throat had become. Reaching quickly for the glass on the table in front of her, she took a long sip of water and pretended not to notice the way the brunette was watching her. 

“I said,” Fallon sat up a little and leaned forward against her knee. “Do you plan on highlighting with that or were you going to stare off into space until home-time?”

Kirby leaned forward to set her glass down again, and lifted her head only to be cleavage-height - and needed to blink quickly so she could lift her eyes back up to the other woman’s face. 

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Fallon quirked an eyebrow, signalling that she hadn’t heard an answer.

“Uh,” Kirby felt her gaze being pulled downward despite her very active attempts to look the other woman in the eye properly. “I was just thinking. Sorry.”

“Good.” Fallon’s voice was suddenly all business again; the almost-teasing knowingness to it earlier had vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and she pulled her jacket more tightly shut as she sat up straighter. “I don’t do well with dead weight.” 

The brunette snapped her jacket shut finitely, and Kirby was sure she saw a smirk on her face when she groaned softly in disappointed response under her breath.

She only managed a few more minutes of quiet work before freezing up, her body suddenly going completely stiff from head to foot when she was startled by the toe of Fallon’s stiletto dragging against her calf. 

Taking a moment to be sure that she hadn’t imagined it, she closed her eyes and then raised them to the other woman’s face, but Fallon was still focused on her own clipboard. Then, almost imperceptibly, she shifted, pressing her foot more insistently against Kirby’s leg. 

Giving Fallon the benefit of the doubt which she  _ knew  _ she didn’t deserve, Kirby slumped back in her own seat as if coincidentally adjusting herself, and pulled her leg  _ just  _ out of the other woman’s reach. Like clockwork, though, Fallon moved to follow her, and then spoke:

“I think I have a couple of friends - headhunters - that can help us… fill in the blanks.” 

Her statement had been innocent but she punctuated it by pressing her shoe flat to Kirby’s shin, and then ‘absentmindedly’ rubbing back and forth as she awaited a response.

Sitting up and pulling her legs completely away, Kirby fixed the other woman with an unimpressed look.  

“What?”

The  _ picture  _ of innocence, Fallon let her jaw slacken a little, eyes widening ever-so-slightly as if confused. 

“You’re going to get dust on my pants,” Kirby explained.

“Oh no,” Fallon’s voice turned mocking, her lips pursing in a semi-pout and her head tilting. The bastardized look of sympathy was deepened when she asked, “What, are they dry clean only?” 

She dropped her gaze down the her body, taking in the sight of her mostly-denim ensemble as if noticing it for the first time. 

Rolling her eyes instead of giving in to the temptation to snark back, Kirby suddenly stretched her legs out across the floor, directly in front of the brunette, and then raised one eyebrow defiantly. 

“Have at ‘er, then. Feel free to touch and grope to your heart’s desire.” Kirby watched the blush heat Fallon’s face, then continued. “Just remember that  _ some  _ of us are trying to work.”

Humbled, the brunette  _ did  _ leave her alone, though a moment later she tangled their legs together without a word, causing the redhead to chuckle to herself as she flipped to a fresh page. 

More for closeness than to be suggestive, the gesture was sweet, and even though she had turned red at the very action, Fallon did seem to loosen a little. Her posture relaxed from its usual tautness, and she settled more comfortably back into her own seat. 

“My half is done.” Kirby spoke next, setting her clipboard and highlighting pen down in the same movement before moving to stand up. 

  
Detangling her legs from the other woman’s proved to be a struggle, especially with Fallon finding every excuse to touch her. Stood before her new boss, Kirby tried desperately not to react to her fingers resting delicately against the side of her thigh. Even through the material of her jeans, she felt the heat from her hand and had to use every ounce of her willpower not to squirm on the spot or give Fallon any other sort of satisfaction of knowing her effect. 

“Bored?”

The brunette looked up at her and tilted her head, again.

“Stretching my legs.”

“I bet I could help you with that,” Fallon’s face suddenly broke into a small grin, her words a joke, not a promise. 

“I bet you could,” Kirby grinned back, letting herself lean into the other woman when she started to trace her fingers back and forth against her leg, trailing them up toward her hip. “But we still have more to do, despite you being an  _ awful  _ tease.”

Dropping her jaw in playful outrage, Fallon tightened her fingers around Kirby’s hip and pulled her to step a little closer. 

“I’m just looking out for you,” she insisted. “We’re not alone in this office.” 

Her words reminded Kirby of the open door across the room from them, and she abruptly remembered the soft-spoken, easily-frightened woman from the reception area. 

“So,” Fallon’s words coaxed her back to face her again. “We’ll just wait until later.” Even as she spoke, she slid her hand from her hip to the back of her thigh, and then briefly squeezing her ass and causing her to jump. 

“Oh- _ kay! _ ” Reaching back quickly behind herself, Kirby wrestled her hand away, laughing in spite of herself when the other woman evaded her easily, dropping her own clipboard to reach up with both hands and steady the redhead by the waist. 

Fallon let her break free, satisfied, and watched in confusion as she wandered across the room and returned with a stack of half-bound manuscripts. Pressing her heel to the table before her, she leaned back a little, but had to sit up before she could get comfortable when Kirby set the stack directly in front of her on the worn wooden table. 

“What’s this?”

Kirby circled back to her own recently abandoned chair with a sigh.

“Generic white guy books, already in development.” 

Fallon reached over and pulled the first one from the top into her lap, eyes flickering up to Kirby as she spoke next.

“You get to decide what stays and what goes.” 

Kirby reached for the next manuscript, laughing to herself when Fallon, in true dramatic fashion, commented on damning those that weren’t worthy of her mercy. Watching her work was almost as distracting as doing her own work, and Kirby found herself falling into the same bad habits as she had only minutes earlier with their first task. 

Rereading the same opening paragraph a third time, Kirby tried not to let herself be too distracted by the other woman - it was impossible when every aspect of her plan coming to fruition had her lit up with the most genuine happiness Kirby had seen in the last several days. All of the stress had been melted off of her, making her relaxing just to look at - for the most part, at least. 

“Send him in, I have five minutes.” 

Kirby had barely noticed the receptionist, and hadn’t even registered that Fallon was talking to  _ her  _ and not just to herself. 

Both curious and nervous for the poor author to meet his fate at the hands of the other woman, Kirby tried her best to look casual, reading the same paragraph  _ again  _ until she saw the man in question appear in the doorway, in her peripherals. 

Alright, she’d just  _ peek _ , and then go back to pretending to be so cold and uninterested that she wouldn’t even look at him while Fallon slowly ripped him apart. 

She saw him before Fallon did. 

It took her brain a moment to catch up with her body, her jaw going slack completely on its own accord and her eyes widening. 

Everything seemed to slow down for a moment, and with all the time in the world, it felt, Kirby tried to split-second figure out a plan of action. Diving across the table and covering Fallon’s face seemed a little dramatic, though drastic times, drastic measures, et cetera. Telling him to just  _ get out  _ could be embarrassing in its own way, as well. 

“Fallon?” 

Kirby’s eyes jumped from Liam to Fallon quickly, and she felt her entire chest tighten as the split second of recognition crossed her face before she turned to him. 

“What the  _ hell  _ is going on?”

Fallon turned back to Kirby and the redhead desperately searched her face for a sign - a plea for what to do. The look on the other woman’s face was just… blank. So shockingly unfazed and even  _ cold _ , the brunette just shook her head with a wry, humorless smile appearing on her lips.

“Wow.” Whether it was directed at Kirby or her life in general, the redhead wasn’t sure, but she began to stand up to head to the man across from them. She didn’t have a plan, whether she’d be asking him to leave and close the door on him, or just lashing out, but Fallon stopped her before she could even go anywhere near him. 

“Kirby, this is Liam Van Kirk -”

“I know.” The redhead cut her off coolly, though she immediately regretted it when Fallon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Liam’s did as well, and he turned his attention to Kirby instead. 

She resisted the urge to cross her arms, not wanting to look defensive, and tilted her head to give him a once-over. She’d gotten a perfectly good look at him back in Idaho, but now she wanted him to feel judged. His reputation  _ had  _ preceded him - and it wasn’t a good one. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Liam broke the silence first.

“Yes!” Fallon was too enthusiastic, trying to slide out of the metaphorical chokehold that the entire interaction was keeping her in. “Yes, why don’t we -” she reached behind Liam and held the door open even wider than it already was.

“Kirby, could you give us a minute?” 

Kirby’s jaw dropped before she could help it. 

“I… don’t you think I should be here? It’s my job.” She tried her best to keep her tone neutral. As worried as she was for the other woman’s mental health in general, she wasn’t sure that belittling her at her new place of work would be the best course of action to keep her riding the high of her success. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Fallon, I’m -”

“I don’t need you here for this meeting. I’m not asking, I’m telling.”  She gestured at the door more insistently, and Kirby had no other choice but to walk out, stunned. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kirby paced for what felt like an hour, when in reality the meeting that she’d been so abruptly kicked out of didn’t take much longer than ten minutes. Still, it was longer than the five that Fallon had promised he’d get before realizing who it was, so the fact that she’d double-booked him  _ just because  _ made Kirby’s blood boil under her skin. 

She  _ almost  _ sympathized with his confusion at the situation - after all, he’d been very clear back in Idaho that he was completely done with Fallon. Still, he didn’t deserve his five minutes. 

Fallon had moved on - or it felt like she  _ was  _ at least, and with everything else going on in her life at the same time, Kirby was momentarily scared that this could be a tipping point. The publishing house had been a successful move, at least up until ten minutes prior, but one good move amidst all of the stress that Kirby had watched the other woman struggle under lately wouldn’t be enough. 

Watching the door when she heard the floor behind it creak, Kirby froze on the spot before continuing her pacing when it didn’t open. She’d give them one more minute before she knocked. 

She pictured the other woman stuttering through her feelings and trying to remain professional, and realized it bothered her whether she imagined Liam accepting or denying it. 

Fallon hadn’t given her any example to go by to not trust her, she reasoned to herself. 

Then again, the only ex-whatever that Kirby had ever really seen her near had been Culhane, and the two of them seemed so far past being disinterested in one another that it barely read as anything, let alone a threat. 

Very suddenly, the door swung open and Liam exited so quickly that Kirby was nearly knocked over in the process. He only paused to steady her, too flustered to apologize, and made sure she seemed unhurt before slinging his jacket up onto his shoulder and heading down the hallway. 

Whirling around to face Fallon instead, Kirby threw up both hands in confusion and shook her head, as if to ask ‘ _ Well?’ _

Flapping one hand dismissively, Fallon turned on her heel and beckoned Kirby to follow her back into the office.

“Shut the door,” she snapped, and Kirby felt every hair on her arms stand on end in reaction to her tone. It took her a moment to remember it wasn’t her that Fallon was upset with, if anyone other than herself. 

“What happened? What did he say? What did  _ you  _ say?” 

“Jesus, Kirby,” Fallon sighed, her voice tight. “Can I breathe?”

She wandered to the window behind the desk and pushed it open, leaning against the sill and letting the soft breeze push itself into the office. The fresh air seemed to help her relax, because she had wiped the irritation and stress from her face by the time she turned around to face Kirby again. 

“Are you letting him stay?” Kirby asked.

“I haven’t decided,” Fallon admitted. “I’ll make a decision today. Or tomorrow. But it’s probably going to be a ‘no’.” 

Kirby sagged in relief. 

“Okay. I just don’t think that after everything, having him around is a great idea.” Kirby stepped a little closer to her, watching the other woman carefully. 

Fallon fiddled absentmindedly with a business card, turning it over corner by corner along the top of the desk slowly.

Realizing she wouldn’t be getting a more definitive answer from her, Kirby turned on her heel and marched back to her earlier seat, picking up the manuscript that she’d left open on the coffee table.

“What? What is this?” Fallon groaned, following her. “Now you’re just going to  _ pout _ ? The jealousy thing isn’t a good look on you.” 

Kirby bit her tongue to stop herself from calling out the hypocrisy, and narrowed her eyes, trying desperately to focus on the words in front of her instead of the brunette.

“Kirby…” 

The tone of her voice  _ almost  _ made the redhead look up - so sad, and  _ soft,  _ and even tired. She felt a pull of worry in her chest when she recalled waiting up for hours for Fallon to leave her room after they got home from Idaho, the familiarity stabbing into her so suddenly that she almost lost her breath.

She didn’t have to make the first move, though, because Fallon crossed the room swiftly and stood in front of her, waiting for her to look up. 

Staring at the page in front of her without absorbing it for only another moment longer, Kirby closed her eyes and accepted defeat, finally looking up at the woman before her and trying her best to fix her with an unimpressed look of disinterest. 

“Is that all this is?” Fallon’s voice was no longer condescending and dismissive, but instead laced with genuine concern. 

“I’m not jealous,” Kirby huffed. “I just don’t have any good experience to go off of, as far as  _ he’s  _ concerned.”

She nodded toward the door that she had bumped into Liam in, then quirked an eyebrow challengingly. 

"That isn't fair," Fallon insisted. 

_ That _ sprung up a sudden vicious heat in Kirby's chest that she hadn’t been expecting, her jaw dropping a little in outrage and her eyes widening. The brunette seemed to sense the sudden change in her demeanour and quickly tried to backtrack.

"No!" She held up a hand as if expecting the other woman's impending outburst to suddenly explode physically from her. "I just meant - it's not fair for you to feel so angry. I told you, it's probably a 'no', anyway."

Kirby held her gaze for a long moment, then cracked a little.

"I'm worried about you."

Fallon's face softened, and she dipped down suddenly, perching on the edge of the coffee table in front of Kirby's seat. The redhead slunk back into the chair, as if threatened, and narrowed her eyes a little. 

"I didn't mean to worry you. I promise everything is fine. It was just a little surprising. And," she looked away, now, instead focusing on the wall behind her as she gathered her thoughts into a more coherent statement, "I was embarrassed. I didn't need to relive what happened last time, and I didn't exactly need you there to witness it, either."

"You promise?" 

Fallon's eyes darted back to Kirby's face, alarmed.

"Of course I do." She reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it a little tighter when she resisted, startled. "I mean it. That's over. This is right now."

Kirby watched her face for a sign of deceit, then she shook her head, using her free hand to shove her hair back from her face. 

"Okay. I believe you. Just promise me you'll tell me if things are... getting bad again."

"I will," Fallon promised, squeezing her hand once, reassuringly, and then letting it go.

It felt suddenly empty, so Kirby scooted closer to the edge of her seat hopefully. 

"Good. That's all I want," she insisted.

Fallon leaned forward and cupped her jaw, kissing her once, gently, then pulling back to look at her properly.  The two of them stared at each other for a moment before kissing again, and then again, and Kirby felt a wave of relief wash over her when she felt the brunette smile against her lips. 

"I thought we said we were working," Kirby reminded her.

"I am," Fallon sighed, pulling back a little and giving her a tiny, disappointed smile. 

"But..." Kirby added, feeling a nervous giddiness rolling up her spine, "Breaks are good. Right?"

Fallon chuckled knowingly, standing up from the table and shaking her head once, with an amused roll of her eyes.

"Back to it," she half-demanded, though her tone was playful.

Making her way over to the main desk, she glanced back when Kirby followed.

"We can probably get rid of this, then." 

The redhead reached for Liam's abandoned business card on the desk, but Fallon quickly grabbed her by the wrist.

"Wait." 

Her voice was suddenly panicky, but ever so subtly. Kirby caught it immediately, though, frowning as Fallon slowly loosened her grip on her arm.

"But you said -"

"I said I still had to make a decision."

"You said ' _ probably no' _ ."

"Yes.  _ Probably _ ." Suddenly no longer meeting her eye, Fallon put a step of space between herself and the other woman, taking the card and moving it to the other side of the desk before dropping it into the open drawer and shutting it closed with a snap. "There's a lot of other factors to consider. For one, I could slough him off onto someone else. This is a business, after all.  I said that I was over it, that doesn't mean I should be losing out on something profitable."

"A business that you  _ just _ said was about empowering women."

“Making money  _ is  _ empowering. Having your own career is empowering.” The second part of Fallon’s statement had been intended to get under Kirby’s skin, and she knew it, so she swallowed the burst of irritation that rose up in her stomach and shook her head.

“You really have  _ no  _ idea what you want, do you? You’re making excuses.”

“And you’re  _ pouting _ . Again.” Fallon’s tone was harsher than before, but Kirby knew it was meant to scare her into caving, so she simply uncrossed her arms and stood to her full height. “I know exactly what I want.”

“You’re on day one and already having trouble making a decision.”

Fallon suddenly slid her jacket from her shoulders and tossed it haphazardly onto the desk chair. Turning to the redhead, she crossed her arms across her chest, pretending not to notice her eyes suddenly dropping to her cleavage.

“ _ Considering  _ my options in a business deal is not the same as commitment issues. Maybe when you get acquainted with working a real  _ adult  _ job, you’ll learn that. Come here. We were having such a  _ nice  _ time a minute ago -” 

She reached out and pulled Kirby a little closer, and despite trying to stand her ground and stay frustrated, the temptation overcame her and she automatically lifted her hands to the other woman’s waist. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the subtly smug look on her face when she realized that she was getting her way wouldn’t have been enough alone for Kirby to pull back, but her next words were.

“- before you started acting all…  _ possessive _ .”

“So now I’m  _ controlling _ ?” Kirby meant for her words to sound angrier than they did, but they were punctuated with Fallon suddenly surging forward and catching her lips with her own.

Her fingers tightened automatically into the silk of Fallon’s chemise top -  _ there was no way it wasn’t intended to be designed as lingerie,  _ Kirby thought - and she felt the brunette tense in surprise at her sudden reaction. 

She  _ had  _ been known to get a little rough - though  _ messy  _ was a better word, usually - but none of their play-fighting or teasing rowdiness was anything close to Kirby gripping her hips to draw her closer and then pushing Fallon against the desk behind her. Biting down  _ almost  _ hard on Kirby’s lip, Fallon curled her fingers into Kirby’s jacket and then roughly began to shove it from her shoulders, almost laughing when the redhead kicked it across the floor out of their way. 

It wasn’t that any part of her didn’t want every encounter to be completely enjoyable for her, but the understanding that to Fallon, there was a chance that all of this was a game, fueled the taller of the two women into all but hoisting her onto the desk, and pinning her down to hover over her for a moment as she caught her breath. 

If it  _ was  _ all just a game - a maneuver to prove her commitment, or just a chance to rile Kirby up into some pre-shift-end sex - she’d win it. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s gotten into you?” Fallon asked, trying to sound aloof - Kirby recognized the tone - but her words came out between gasps.

“No. And take this off.” Kirby plucked at her shirt enough to loosen it from the waist of her pants, only leaning back to let the flustered brunette sit up just enough to pull the garment up over her head and toss it aside. 

“Kirby -” she started, but she was silenced with another kiss, groaning approvingly into it as she was lowered back against the desk again. 

Almost tenderly, Kirby rubbed one thumb over the jut of her ribs, causing the woman beneath her to shiver pleasantly, then replaced with gesture with a harsher one, dipping her fingers from her other hand into the waist of her pants and tugging roughly enough to almost scoot her down an inch on the desk.

“These too. Off.” 

She watched Fallon reach for them and then pause, her eyes flicking up to hers for a moment. Letting go of them, she reached to untuck Kirby’s shirt instead, but she was stopped quickly. 

“I said  _ off _ .” 

Kirby was surprised they weren’t ripped, given the speed that Fallon began to pull them off, wriggling her way back onto the desk and reaching for the other woman almost needily before she pounced. Kissing her and then working her way down her jaw toward her ear, she tugged it between her teeth - gentle enough to not hurt, but hard enough to have her freeze up, even more alert than she already was, if possible. 

Taking a moment to enjoy touching Fallon - distraction free, thanks to her own still mostly intact outfit - Kirby pressed the palm of her hand flat against her stomach, fingers splayed. More of a gesture of suggestion than a physical restraint, she kept her still, lifting her head to finally look at her properly. The usual smug look of satisfaction had been wiped clean from her face, replaced instead with a breathless, wide-eyed look of anticipation. 

She opened her mouth like she was about to speak but Kirby silenced her by shaking her head ever so slightly, leaning back down to kiss her chest. Her hand that had been resting on her stomach slid up towards her breasts and held one through her bra, hard enough to be a warning not to move, but again, gentle enough not to hurt. She felt the itching details of the lace under the pads of her fingers and immediately let go to worm one hand beneath Fallon's back to fidget with the clasp.

"Let me," Fallon's voice was barely a whisper, and Kirby was acutely aware that it was from hoarseness, not any specific desire to stay quiet.  She sat up slightly and Kirby reached around her to undo it before she could herself, yanking her suddenly to the edge of the desk as she stood up herself. 

Fallon automatically hooked her legs around Kirby's hips and stared at her for a moment - curious more than worried - before leaning in to kiss her neck. 

"I thought we weren't going to do this," Kirby reminded her, clutching Fallon by the torso to balance her in place while she pressed herself closer and closer, nearly sliding off of the side of the desk in her efforts to make sure no space was left between them.

Fallon didn't have an answer for that, finally wrestling her hands up under Kirby's shirt and pulling her in by the waist to her. 

"Overdressed-" It was only a fraction of whatever witty comment that Fallon seemed to have had in mind, but it turned into a gasp of approval when Kirby pushed her hands out from her shirt and shoved her legs open even further. Desperate and shamelessly uncaring of how she looked or sounded, she twisted a little and ground herself against the other woman's jean-clad thigh. 

"I didn't catch that," Kirby muttered, knitting her brows together as if confused, before raising one hand to her breast again as the other slipped around the back of her shoulders. "Maybe you could speak up."

"Receptionist." Fallon reminded her through gritted teeth. 

Kirby made a small acknowledging sound in the back of her throat, with a single nod, and then traced one finger around her nipple before dropping her hand entirely. 

"Well, we wouldn't want to alarm her."

Almost falling back in surprise, Fallon went to protest as the woman before her let go of her entirely but it turned into a disbelieving laugh when she pressed her fingers insistently against the material of her panties and tilted her head, as if checking her vitals. She jumped and tried to tug her legs shut in reaction to the sudden burst of sensation, but Kirby's knee held her open in place, and she found a slow, gentle rhythm quickly enough to make Fallon lay back against the desk in what she mentally would have described as defeat. 

Her hands were usually reserved for pulling closer whoever was doing her the honour, so to speak, but with Kirby standing before her - and out of her reach - she found herself gripping the edge of the desk with one hand and burying the other in her own hair, gripping and letting go of long, freshly straightened locks in some kind of an ill-executed attempt at maintaining an ounce of her composure. 

Giving her a moment of relief, Kirby slid a hand behind her knee and lifted her leg, reaching back and wordlessly flicking one of her stilettos onto the floor with a loud clatter against the worn hardwood. 

Fallon tilted her head up toward her only to find the redhead staring straight back at her, one eyebrow raised.

She all but dropped Fallon's leg and moved onto the next, and despite the shoving and biting from moments earlier, the gesture felt empty and out of place without the usual kisses trailing from her ankle up to the inside of her knee that usually followed. It was admittedly a little bit thrilling to see Kirby like this - she hadn't since before they'd first started spending more time together - but she had grown used to the more...  _ affectionate _ treatment that had become their routine. 

She wasn’t given much time to feel sorry for herself before Kirby was tugging her underwear down to add to the growing pile of clothing on the floor, pinching the garment between two fingers and turning it over admiringly before carelessly tossing it behind herself. 

“Wait,” Fallon’s voice was suddenly less hazy - sharp and alarmed. “Did you remember to lock the do- oh my  _ god!”  _

Wasting absolutely no time, the redhead dropped to the floor atop her own jacket and yanked Fallon directly to herself at the edge of the desk. 

She skipped the usual build-up and gentle teasing altogether, sensing how ready they’d both been for the last few moments, and wrapped one hand around Fallon’s thigh to hold it over her shoulder in place, the other reaching up and finding her clit.

She could hear Fallon  _ trying  _ to vocalize something more coherent than the sounds that seemed to be escaping her without her permission each time that she opened her mouth, but kept her pace steadily. It obviously wasn’t a protest, whatever it was she was stuttering and gasping through, given the way she was desperately trying to squirm herself free of Kirby’s anchoring grip and all but ride her face at her own pace. 

Kirby held her fast, holding her thumb that was on her clit still each time she felt her begin to get too impatient. 

“ _ Please!”  _

Finally, a real word.

Pulling back entirely, Kirby planted a hand on either side of Fallon’s hips on the desk and hauled herself up, then wiped at her face with the back of her hand. 

Fallon immediately shoved herself to sit back on her elbows, glaring up at the other woman angrily. 

“What’re you doing?”

Wandering from the side of the desk to the chair behind it, Kirby sat down and let the wheels creak back slightly. 

Fallon fully sat up on the desk, now, giving the other woman a look of annoyed confusion, before a combination of understanding and nervous excitement replaced it as the redhead patted her lap suggestively and quirked one eyebrow. 

“Well?” She sounded impatient, so Fallon swung her legs down the side of the desk and took a step closer before she even realized she’d moved. 

Climbing almost awkwardly onto the other woman’s lap, she was about to ask how exactly they were supposed to proceed when her knees were efficiently pushed into place on either side of Kirby’s own, leaving her feeling surprisingly more exposed than she had the entire time she’d been splayed out naked on the desk.

She jumped when Kirby first touched her, but the new position made it easier for her to silence herself by leaning down and kissing the other woman. 

It was nice, the familiarity, and she was surprised with exactly how tender the woman underneath of her was being now that they were face-to-face. She’d either forgotten how angry she’d been earlier - or had seemed to be - or it had all been an act. Either way, Fallon rocked her hips insistently, pressing herself against her fingers as she buried her own hands into her hair. 

Taking her nonverbal cue, Kirby slid one finger slowly into her, followed shortly by a second, and let out a tiny huff of a laugh against the woman’s neck when she broke the kiss to languidly throw her head back and moan. 

“More?” she asked, punctuating her question with a tiny kiss to her throat, leaving her lips there as she awaited her answer.

Fallon nodded quickly, her mouth falling open when she gently added another finger without a word of protest.

“See how good you are at making decisions when you  _ really _ know what you want?”

Fallon made a sound somewhere between a ‘tsk’ and an ‘ugh’ but seemed to have realized that she wasn’t in a position to argue her side - so instead she kissed Kirby again, much more roughly this time, biting at her lip as she pulled away and gripping her jaw. 

Kirby only smirked in response to her sudden attempt to gain some kind of dominance over the situation as a whole, curling her fingers ever so slightly and rolling her thumb in a lazy, torturously soft circle around her clit. 

The look of frustration on Fallon’s face melted into something much softer, her lip curling despite herself as she tugged her lower lip between her teeth and closed her eyes blissfully. 

Giving her a moment to decide if she was  _ truly  _ putting the comment behind them, Kirby watched her as she slowly began to rock against her fingers again, and then leaned in to kiss across her chest again. Fallon’s hands buried into red locks once more as she lapped one nipple into her mouth, letting it go as quickly as she’d claimed it to continue trailing her mouth toward the other. 

Her skin was hot - the blush was noticeable just to the touch, not even tacking on how flushed the brunette looked. Her cheeks and chest were almost red, her breathing coming out shakily and a thin sheen appearing across her torso. She lowered one hand from Kirby’s hair to her shoulder, balancing herself as she almost imperceptibly picked up her tempo, rolling her hips up with every push until her almost-ragged breathing had turned into panting. 

Usually one for at least a  _ little  _ bit of warning, whether verbal or not, Fallon’s orgasm caught her - and Kirby - by surprise. She’d even began to let out a little ‘ _ what? _ ’ at herself before squeezing her eyes shut and tensing up entirely. 

Kirby was sure she felt it before Fallon even had, trying to focus on keeping her pace steady while being almost transfixed with watching the other woman tense and untense, the only thing keeping her from screaming being how hoarse her own voice was. 

Her exclamation was high and broken up by moments of sheer silence. Gripping the material of Kirby’s shirt, she accidentally dug her nails harshly into the skin beneath it, but neither of them were in any position to stop it. Kissing her one more time, Kirby silenced the last of it, feeling the returned kisses change from urgent and rough to slow, and blissed-out. 

When she was sure the other woman had nothing left to give, so to speak, she pulled her hand free, and took her by the hips, pushing them both to a standing position. Fallon’s legs shook, unprepared for the sudden change in position, and she made a little noise of shock in the back of her throat when the redhead promptly leaned her against the desk instead of herself. Gripping the edge of it to steady herself, Fallon watched her in confusion as she sidled away, the peaceful afterglow that had barely any chance to settle in slipping away from her as quickly as it had come. 

“What’re you -” Cutting herself off when she realized that her teeth were trying to chatter together, Fallon crossed her arms against the sudden chill that was passing over her and realized for the first time just how unpleasant being entirely naked - and alone in that - was. 

“My contract isn’t signed yet.” Kirby’s voice was suddenly normal - not the demanding woman she’d just been having sex with, nor the usually playful tone that Fallon was used to. In fact, even the earlier hurt was nowhere to be heard, as if a switch had been flipped. 

“I’ll take the job I’ve been offered.” Retrieving her jacket from the floor and shrugging it on, the redhead glanced up at Fallon and then held out both her bra and underwear in one hand. “But my acceptance is contingent on Liam Ridley - or  _ any  _ of his seven hundred harlequin knockoff pseudonyms - not working here. Or  _ for  _ here. Or at anywhere else you may be able to find a position for him.” 

She pulled her hair free from the collar of her jacket and watched as Fallon’s hands, currently reclasping her bra behind her back after having jumped around into her underwear, slowed to a stop, dropping at her sides.

“Is that - is this for real?” Fallon’s lower lashes were beginning to smudge, her lipstick looking more like a tint after so much of it had been kissed off or transferred to the back of her hand each time she’d had to bite down on her fist. 

“Yeah,” Kirby sighed, reaching over and tapping one finger on the desk. “Him or me. Weigh your commitment issues, or options, or whatever you like to call them, and let me know when you make a decision. You’re so acquainted and experienced with the whole  _ real adult job  _ thing, I’m sure it’ll come to you.” 

She expected a snarky comeback, but the look on Fallon’s face was so completely and obviously blindsided that Kirby gave up on expecting a response and turned around to let herself out.

“I’ll see you at the house. Don’t work too late.” 

She let herself out, and Fallon heard the distinct sound of a separate pair of shoes outside, followed by Kirby.

_ “Oh, you know, she’s right in the middle of something. Maybe you could check back later? Or call the voicemail?”  _

The door swung shut, and Fallon darted for her pile of clothes. 


End file.
